Two and a half hours earlier, Carlos and Pizarro's company of seventy men had arrived at the place known as The Gallows.
The area was a maze of cliffs, one of which was a hundred-meter-high precipice with a ten-meter ledge jutting out over the road like a hangman's platform. While not as treacherous as Dead Man's Gulch, it offered plenty of its own hiding places.
After a discussion the night before, Pizarro had made the decision: this was where they would lay their trap.
He reasoned that any other gangs coming from Denver would choose the more obvious chokepoint of Dead Man's Gulch. He would let them engage Henry first, bloodying him. Then, his own men could play the part of the patient fisherman and reap the rewards. He knew Henry would not go down easily. And even if he did, the victors would have to pass this way to get back to Denver to claim their bounty.
Pizarro divided his seventy men into four teams, hiding them in the dense forests and caves on either side of the mountain pass.
They had been in position for less than an hour when a column of over a hundred riders thundered past them on the road below.
"That's the Dodge Gang from Kansas City," his lieutenant, Diego, whispered. "The one in the lead is 'Cross-Eye' Frank."
Pizarro just grunted in acknowledgment, the very picture of a confident commander.
His men exchanged looks of admiration. Their leader's foresight was truly incredible.
Half an hour later, Richard Mellon's party of forty-two came into view.
Pizarro spotted the luxurious hardtop carriage immediately. "Who are they?" he asked.
"Their banner is the mark of the McKinley family," another lieutenant, Antonio, replied. "They own several mines near Frisco and have a private army of a few hundred cavalry. They use this road often."
"Should we attack them?" Carlos asked.
"No," Antonio said. "Henry is the priority. We can't risk exposing ourselves. If they spot us, we'll have to kill them all."
After a quick signal to the other teams, the men retreated deeper into the mountains. A dozen minutes later, the McKinley scouts gave the all-clear, and the main party passed through The Gallows at high speed.
By now, "Cross-Eye" Frank's gang was settled into their own ambush positions on the cliffs overlooking Dead Man's Gulch.
"Henry's group has women and children with them," Frank told his men. "It will take them another two or three hours to get here. Keep your eyes open. I told you all last night how dangerous this man is."
His men nodded and dispersed into nine teams. One team took the horses to a hidden basin behind the valley entrance. The other eight melted into the rocks above the narrow path.
Half an hour later, Richard Mellon's caravan appeared at the other end of the valley.
Frank raised his binoculars. "Who is it?"
"The banner is McKinley's," a bald outlaw named Saki replied. "They have a force of over two hundred cavalry guarding their mines near Frisco. They must be escorting someone important."
"Boss, should we take them?" another man, a skinny outlaw named Jim, asked eagerly. "Look at those noblewomen. They must be worth a fortune!"
Frank grinned. "Take them? Of course we'll take them. Henry's head is valuable, but the lives of these mining bosses are even more valuable. Henry won't be here for hours. We'll hit them now. Leave the women alive. Kill all the men except for the one in the fancy suit."
Jim quickly relayed the signal. The outlaws sank deeper into their hiding places, their rifles ready.
Edith Jones leaned her head out of the carriage window. The towering cliffs on either side of the narrow path were truly imposing. "No wonder they call it Dead Man's Gulch," she said.
She pulled her head back in and smiled at her cousin. "Madeline, a person truly must travel. Where else could one see such uniquely sinister scenery?"
Madeline, who was feeling ill from the journey, could only manage a weak smile in return.
Outside, Richard Mellon was also feeling a knot of anxiety in his stomach. The path ahead looked terrifying.
"Aiden," he said to the captain of his guard, "this place is a mile long. Aren't your men afraid when they pass through here?"
"No, Mr. Mellon, you can rest assured," the captain replied. "We ride this road often. The McKinley family's influence is strong here. No one would dare to cause us trouble."
Twenty minutes later, the ten scouts on the cliffs above gave the all-clear signal. Aiden relaxed. "No problem, sir," he said to Richard. "We'll proceed now."
The long column began to snake its way into the narrow gulch.
Edith stared out the window, a strange feeling creeping over her. It felt as if the mountains themselves were about to come crashing down and crush them into dust. She quickly closed her eyes and began to pray.
They had traveled less than six hundred feet into the gulch when the world exploded in a deafening roar of gunfire. The carriage screeched to a halt, throwing Edith and Madeline forward against the padded seat in front of them.
On the cliffs above, the ten scouts were already dead, each of them cut down by the concentrated fire of half a dozen rifles.
Richard watched in horror as Captain Aiden's head, just a few feet in front of him, disintegrated in a spray of red and white.
In less than a minute, all of the guards were dead, slaughtered before they could even form a defensive circle.
Richard fumbled with the Winchester in his saddle scabbard, but when he finally raised it, he saw nothing but rocks and shadows. He had no one to shoot at.
Madeline's face was as white as a sheet. Edith was trembling, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.
I only wanted to admire the danger, she thought, her mind screaming in terror. I never wanted to be trapped inside it!
My God! Who will save us now?
Just then, dozens of rough-looking men stood up from behind the rocks, their rifles all aimed at him. Richard Mellon had no choice. He dropped his gun and raised his hands in surrender.